


Home Again

by orphan_account



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, slight!angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2051097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short while after Amy's death, Simon happens to hear that some of the Prophet's followers are after him. He leaves Roarton for a week or so, hoping to protect both himself and Kieren from harm. But Kieren struggles, and all he wants is Simon home again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Again

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Okaaaay so this is my first ITF fic. It's not got much of a plot, and I'm really just testing the waters...! I found it pretty difficult compared to writing for other fandoms, like whoa! I'd like to continue this, getting on to the conversations mentioned here, but we'll see ^^

 

* * *

 

 

 

It's been weeks since Amy was taken from the world for a second time. The image of her being buried has taken a toll on Kieren and Simon both, but they still have each other, and they don't forget that. Remarkably, Simon's not uttered a word about the ULA, nor has a single biblical quote fallen from his lips since that day. Kieren's glad for it, but he also worries – after all, Simon's extremist ways were part of what made him _him_. Perhaps it's because he's been affected by Amy's death, or perhaps he just doesn't feel like talking about the Second Rising and the Prophet, but Kieren wants to ask why. Not just yet, though. There's a deep, trembling feeling within him, as if his heart is quietly quivering with fear, but he knows it's just an illusion born of his own thoughts. Because Kieren's not an idiot – he knows something is _wrong_ with Simon, and he knows Simon lets out shuddered sighs when he thinks no one's around. But even so, Kieren thinks he's not ready to find out what's happening just yet. He needs time to mourn for Amy, and to gather his thoughts and enjoy Simon staying put.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Kieren finds himself at the bungalow more often than not after what happened. Neither he nor Simon want to be alone – it's obvious, even if they've never voiced it. The other PDS suffers, the ULA supporters, have stopped coming to visit. Kieren knows it's something to do with Simon and _that day_ , and perhaps it even has to do with why Simon was gone without a trace.

 

“You okay?” Simon asks, turning his head to look at Kieren, whose eyes are trained on the ceiling. They're lying together in Simon's bed, as they often do in the late afternoon.

“Yeah,” Kieren's head shifts slightly and a tiny smile tugs at the side of his mouth, “Just thinking.”

Simon stares at the younger make before he glances down, and when he peers back up again there's a visible glaze of guilt. “About what?” He asks airily, “You...you've been thinking a lot lately.”

Kieren watches those eyes and wonders why they're so full of sorrow just as often as they're full of adoration. He wonders if now is the time to ask about it all, but he's quite enjoying this little peaceful moment. After a few seconds he simply shakes his head and smiles. “It's nothing.”

“Alright,” Simon nods. He doesn't want to push.

They listen to the birds chirping outside, and the sounds of faint chitter-chatter from people passing by in the street. It's comfortable, something Kieren's not felt in so, so long. He sighs softly as he rolls onto his side and lets his fingers idly fiddle with the hem of Simon's sleeve.

 

 

 

When the sky has turned dark and the moon shines bright, Simon walks Kieren home in time for dinner. Not that he's going to eat, but family time is important to him and Simon understands that. He's had more than a few meals with the Walkers by now, who smile at him and look upon him with quiet gratitude.

Simon clears his throat as they reach the driveway, successfully halting Kieren, who turns to look at him in question. There is no question, however; Simon can only stare at his boyfriend and wait.

Kieren raises his eyebrows and grins mischievously, as if he's still expecting Simon to actually say something.

Simon wants to lean forwards and press a kiss to those lips, but he's still not sure if he _can_. There's been a few kisses since that day, and some hugs and lying close together, but he still waits for Kieren to allow it.

With a tiny shake of the head, Kieren lets out a little laugh before he steps closer and gives Simon a peck on the lips. He pulls away slightly and lingers, letting their gazes meet for a moment.

“Thank you,” He says, and then he's shuffling away, moving his gangly legs down the driveway and into his house. Simon stands, watching, while his fingers curl up into the sleeves of his jumper.

 

 

 

Once Kieren is out of sight, Simon turns and walks away. He looks at the moon, and the trees dancing in the breeze, and the leaves that scuttle along like bugs across the pavement. It's cold – he knows that – but it feels like nothing. He recalls how when he was alive he always wondered what nothingness would be like; how it would feel to be rid of all those horrible feelings. Because Simon was never too hopeful – he wasn't asking to be happy, nor was he expecting it. In fact, he thinks he was never sure if he wanted to be happy, because he knew the sadness that surely followed would always seem worse in comparison. All he truly desired was to feel nothing.

And, for a moment, he did.

Simon wonders if Kieren ever felt the same way – that it's almost a joke, how they wanted to get away from the depression and the helplessness, only to have returned to it all without half of their senses. But, he thinks with a smile, it's okay. He never knew he wanted a second life, but, then again, he never knew Kieren Walker existed.

 

 

 

Simon's only about halfway home when he hears familiar voices nearby – it's the voices of the ULA supporters. He half-debates about turning his head to look, but he's ever so curious about what they're all up to now. He shifts just slightly, enough to see them all shuffling up a driveway towards a new house.

“They'll be here soon, you know,” He hears Zoe say, though it's muffled by distance “Won't have to wait long for it now.”

“What'll they do to him?” Another asks.

“Dunno – but if the Prophet thinks he's a traitor...”

Simon snaps his head back before anyone can possibly see him. It takes him a few moments to collect himself before he walks away, his pace hastening as he goes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Traitor_

_Traitor_

_Traitor_

 

 

He's in Amy's kitchen, hands braced on the counter as he stares at the slow-dripping tap. His mind races with all sorts of _'what if's_ and _'how's_ and _'when's_. What if someone really is coming to... _eliminate_...him? How – will it be quick? Will it be torturous? When will they find him?

And, most importantly – will Kieren be harmed?

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The bright winter sun glares in through the gap in Kieren's curtains, waking him up the following morning. Despite the dreams of Amy and Rick that still occasionally haunt him, he's beginning to find life more relaxing. Sure, he wants to know what's going on with Simon, but just waking up to know he can go and spend the day with his boyfriend – he can only smile at the word – is so wonderful that Kieren is willing to try and forget the sadness that surrounds them.

He shrugs on a sweater and fixes his hair in the mirror, purposefully staring longer and longer at himself each day – for Amy, he says, and for himself.

Breakfast is 'eaten' quickly; hurried 'spoonfuls' are raised up towards his mouth and back down again, until his bowl of cornflakes is soggy enough to be considered 'finished'.

“In a hurry, love?” His mother asks.

“I'm going to the bungalow,” Kieren tells her happily, “I'll be back for dinner.”

 

 

 

 

He's smiling all the way to the bungalow, recalling how cute Simon looked the night before, waiting for a kiss so shyly. He thinks about how he could tease Simon for that, and then his mind wanders to think about Simon doing the leaning in – either way, there's a great big grin on his face by the time he knocks on the door.

Simon opens it. He's got a big backpack on and he's all dressed to go out – and not just for the day. At once Kieren's mouth falls open and he hopes to everything good that Simon isn't about to leave town.

“Hey,” Simon says, “Um...”

Kieren can only frown. “Where are you going?”

“I have to go,” Simon speaks urgently, but then he pauses. His arm moves out towards Kieren, his fingers gently grasping the slender figure before him, “Come with me.”

There's no response. Kieren's brows twitch in confusion, and his eyes begin to fill with fear.

“Please.”

“Why?”

Simon can see the betrayal washing over the younger male's features – it hurts, oh, how it hurts him to know exactly what he's doing and not be able to stop it – but he _has_ to go. He can't – he _won't_ – let Kieren come to harm, and he wants to be true to his word; he wants to stay put with Kieren, but that requires him to be above the ground and not under it. If a few days out of town means he'll have longer with Kieren, then he's willing to take the chance.

“I just have to, I...I..I'll tell you when I come back, okay?”

Kieren fights to keep his lips from pulling downwards, and he struggles against the stinging behind his eyes as he stares at Simon. “Don't leave me again,”

“Then come with me,” Simon swallows thickly, and then his voice becomes a near-whisper, “Come with me...”

“I can't,” Kieren shakes his head, “Whatever this is – whatever you're going to do – I have no idea about it and I can't just leave.”

“Just a few days?” Simon pleads. He knows he's not going to change Kieren's mind, and he's not going to force him, but he wants Kieren to know that it hurts him too.

“I'm sorry,” Another shake of the head, “My family...I can't.”

Simon nods a few times, his eyes flitting between Kieren and the floor. He takes in a deep breath, adjusts his backpack and moves towards the doorway. Kieren shifts over so he can walk past, but then Simon's hand is tugged back. He looks over his shoulder to find Kieren holding that hand, slim fingers weaving themselves into thicker, stronger ones.

“Please stay safe,” Kieren speaks softly, “And don't disappear again.”

There's a pause for silence then, as their eyes meet and Simon gently swipes his thumb over Kieren's hand. “I promise,” He says, turning his gaze to stare out into the streets, “Hey, don't come here until I come back, okay?”

Silence resumes. Simon's not sure what he was expecting to hear – a confused 'why?', or perhaps something a little more angry? He ends up peering over his shoulder again, brows furrowed with worry.

But Kieren doesn't look angry, or annoyed. Perhaps a little confused, yes, with his mouth slightly parted and his big, white eyes staring at him, but there's no anger. He moves closer to Simon; one step is enough that his chest is pressed against the older male's arm, his hands moving up to cup Simon's face.

Simon turns his body and blinks – _one-two...three_ – before he is quite suddenly unable to tear his eyes from Kieren, who is inching closer and closer. There's a soft look in his eyes now, as his fingers gently press into Simon's cheeks and under his jaw. In that moment, Simon is both expectant and surprised, as he always seems to be when Kieren decides to grace Simon's lips with his own. As soon as their mouths meld together, Simon is clutching at Kieren's neck, eyes closed as he wishes so hard that this didn't have to end; that he didn't have to go for a while and that he could just stay like this, with Kieren, forever. He kisses back fervently, letting his fingers stroke up into soft hair.

If Simon is eager, then Kieren is even more so. There's enough force in his movements that Simon ends up nearly stumbling towards the wall, though he soon manages to hold himself in place - after all, Simon is a darn sight bigger than Kieren, though he would never come across as such.

“Kier - ” He tries, but then those lips are on his again, and Simon wants to remember each and every kiss they share – none are to be wasted with mere words.

At long last they come apart; one silhouette becomes two against the white brightness of the outside world. Simon brushes a loving hand through Kieren's hair, along his cheek, towards his chest.

And then he's gone, out of the bungalow and off to wherever he's going.

 

 

 

 

 

“You're home early,” His mother comments when Kieren comes home approximately nine hours earlier than usual.

“Yeah,” He sighs, “Simon's going somewhere.”

“Oh? Where?”

“Don't know,” A shrug, “Don't know when he's coming back, either.”

“Well, he came back before, didn't he? Where was he that time?” His mother picks up a tea-towel from the laundry basked and hangs it over the back of a chair.

“In the city.”

“Well, he said he's staying here,” She smiles reassuringly at him, and from his perch on the sofa his father nods in agreement, “I'm sure he'll be back soon, love.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Days pass, and Simon hasn't come to knock on Kieren's door. He wonders why he can't go to the bungalow, but after the dangers in Roarton he supposes there must be a good enough reason. He watches films with his father and he chats with his sister while she's about, and he even watches his mother cooking the evening meal. But it's just not the same.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

After seven days, Simon's absence becomes worrying. Kieren thinks, somehow, that it might help if he just pays a little visit to the bungalow. Simon's words echo in his mind, but he _needs_ to at least pass by. He needs to see Simon's belongings, needs to reassure himself that Simon hasn't gone for good.

The front door is open, and for a split second a great smile erupts on Kieren's face. _Simon is back!_ He hastily makes his way towards the bungalow, pace something between a brisk walk and a jog, until two men appear in the hallway. Kieren stops dead in his tracks – even from afar he knows he's never seen these two before. They are PDS sufferers, like him, with pale skin and even paler eyes, but they don't look harmless. They talk amongst themselves, pointing towards different areas of the bungalow. Kieren decides to carry on walking closer, hoping to elicit some information without seeming suspicious.

“Hey, hey you,” One of the men calls, noticing him as a fellow undead brother as he nears the house, “Is this where Simon Monroe lives?”

Kieren watches as the other man disappears back into the living room before he answers. “I don't know where he lives, sorry.”

“But he's in Roarton, yeah?”

“I've seen him about. Sorry, are you part of the ULA or something?”

“You not?”

Kieren stops in front of the path that leads up to the bungalow, shaking his head. “I know there's a group of.. _.supporters_...here, though.”

Thankfully, his tone seems to go unnoticed.

“You ought to be, mate,” The man steps out of the doorway, gesturing to their general surroundings, “The living ain't good to our kind.”

Kieren forces a smile in response, though his eyes suddenly catch sight of the other male returning towards the front door. There's something in his hand, something he's slipping into the pocket of his jacket – it _glints_ as the sunlight hits it, shiny and silvery and _sharp_.

Standing up a little straighter, Kieren tries to compose himself despite the bile rising in his throat. “W-what did you need Simon for? I don't think he'd be too happy knowing you're breaking into houses trying to find him.”

The bungalow door is closed – it works, so Kieren supposes they must have broken in through the back – and the two men exchange blank, but knowing, looks.

“We just wanted to have word with him is all.”

Kieren can only nod at that, eyes following the two men as they stroll down the pathway and past him. A hand shakes his shoulder, knocking him slightly off balance.

“See you around, mate,” The man says, “And remember – ULA!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kieren heads straight home after that, and he runs to his room without so much as a muttered 'hi' to his family. His door is slammed shut and then he's curled up in his bed, staring into space as his mind races uncontrollably.

_What if those men find Simon?_

_Where is Simon?_

_Is he...alive?_

He looks at the clock; an unwise decision – Simon has been gone for a week already, and every sharp tick is a second in which Kieren has no idea what Simon is doing. He could be fine, he could be scared, he could be lying in the middle of god-knows-where with a knife in his head – Kieren's throat thickens at the thought. It's such an intensely horrifying thought, in fact, that Kieren finds himself reaching under his pillow for the enormous jumper Simon left in his room after a visit. He never expected to be the type that would do such a thing, but he holds the huge cable-knit monstrosity as if it were his most treasured belonging, running his fingers across the bobbles and willing it to somehow produce Simon from within its baggy centre.

“Why won't you just.. _.tell me?”_ He whispers, pressing his face into the dark green material, “Please don't disappear...”

It takes a while of thinking and wishing tirelessly, but soon Kieren's hands begin to shake. It's only slight at first; a little tremble, as if he's shivering – though he knows he's not. Then it begins to intensify, until he can barely hold the jumper in his grasp. All he can think is how this happened before, at Amy's wake, but this time he can't seem to make it go away. He tries sitting on his hands, but when he moves them they're still quivering.

“Kieren, dinner's ready!”

Kieren stills to his mother's voice.

“Coming!” He calls back, though he doesn't think he should leave his room till he has himself under control.

 

 

 

 

Kieren arrives downstairs ten minutes later, after his name has been called, and then yelled, and then huffed by both his parents and his sister. It's fish fingers tonight, and two have been placed on a plate for him, with a small serving of chips and peas.

“Sorry,” He smiles sheepishly, “I was, uh, drawing. Got carried away.”

His mother smiles at him as he sits down and licks his lips at the dish – wait, what?

“You look hungry!” His father jokes, looking to Jem and Sue until they nod in agreement.

Kieren's own smile fades, though. Because for a split second he _did_ feel hungry. It's not a sensation he could fake, or imagine, to have an empty stomach in need of food. But just as soon as it appeared, the feeling is gone, replaced only by a great swirl of confusion in Kieren's head.

“Kieren?”

“Uh,” He glances up to force a little laugh for his father, “I guess I'm getting good at this,” He raises his knife and fork before pretending to cut into his food, as he always does.

His parents exchange pleased eyebrow-raises, while Jem watches him, her expression unreadable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

That night, as Kieren lays in bed, there's a knock on his door. He doesn't answer, but the door opens anyway, and Jem peeks her head inside.

“You alright?”

For a moment Kieren wants to be honest, like she's been with him, but his open mouth simply can't seem to say 'no'. “Yeah, fine,” He says instead.

“I know you're not,” Jem enters the room and closes the door behind her, “You're my brother; you can't fool me that easy. So what's up? Is it him?”

“Him?”

“Simon,” She smiles softly as she sits on the end of the bed, “I heard he's gone again.”

Kieren takes a while to shift about under the covers, rolling onto his back. “...I'm just worried. That he might not be okay.”

“Why?”

And so Kieren tells her of the men he saw, and the knife, and how he just wants Simon to come home so he won't have to worry that another person he loves is going to disappear from his life – he's fighting back tears by the time he finishes.

“It'll be fine, Kier,” Jem promises, “What would've happened if those men turned up while you were in there with Simon? If they wanted to hurt him, then they might've hurt you too.”

At this Kieren's eyes widen. “You mean...”

“He's probably trying to protect you, Kier, somehow. I've seen the way he looks at you – there's no way he's just gone because he wants to go.”

“You – you what?” Kieren knows he'd be blushing had he blood in his veins.

Jem's laugh is sweet to his ears. “He's so into you, Kier!”

At that moment something leaps inside Kieren's chest – it's so human, so real, and so _terrifying_. He manages to force a chuckle for his sister, because he really appreciates her efforts, but all he wants to do now is curl up in his duvet and think about what's happening.

“Thanks, Jem,” He smiles, “I guess we better sleep now?”

“Really?” She scoffs, eyes following her brother's hand as it starts to clutch at his sweater, right where his heart lies below.

“I-I'm just tired.”

Jem's gaze lingers, but she soon nods in understanding and takes her leave.

 

 

* * *

 

 

At three-am Kieren is still awake. He knows something is wrong with his body, but he has no idea what. He can't help but think that maybe Simon would have an inkling of an idea – after all, he's always been so much more proud of what he is, of what _they_ are.

“Simon...” Kieren's soon reaching for the jumper again, “I need you...”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

That night Kieren dreams of Simon. He dreams of blood, and he dreams of another body being lowered beneath the earth for good. When he wakes his cheeks are damp with tears that he was unable to control. Kieren decides it's been far too long now, even if his entire family are convinced he's going to come back any time soon. He rolls out of bed and pulls Simon's jumper on, skips breakfast entirely – much to the dismay of his parents – and leaves.

 

 

He walks and walks and walks until he's on the way out of town, pushing through the long fields of grass and wondering how far he'd have to walk to be where Simon is. But that's something he doesn't know, something he won't know, not really, unless the world is so exceptionally kind enough to guide him in the right direction. And Kieren isn't entirely sure if the world is awful or wonderful.

 

He ends up sitting on a large rock, staring out into the endless green and grey.

 

He falls into a daze soon enough, eyes transfixed on the gentle sway of the trees and the grass before him. But then there's footsteps in the distance; slightly heavy movements against the soft floor – somehow, it's a familiar noise. Kieren turns his head to the right and at once it's as if all his energy is sucked out of him before surging back into his body.

 

There's a pale figure, with dark hair and an huge coat lumbering along towards him. It's only tiny, this figure, still far off in the distance, but Kieren _knows_. He stands up and waits for a moment before he begins to walk towards the figure, his small steps quickly becoming bigger and bigger until he's jogging with his hands in his pockets, but then that's not going to get him there fast enough so he pulls them out and he _runs_ – he's nearly stumbling by the time the figure looks up from his feet and notices him approaching.

_It is Simon._

And Simon stills.

And Simon gasps.

“Kieren?” He asks, voice croaking as if he's not spoken a word for days.

But Kieren doesn't answer. He continues to run – it's a little awkward now, with stiff legs wading through the long grass and bumpy terrain – until he stops but a breath away from Simon. It's a rather overwhelming sight, Simon is. Because the greatest sensation of relief and safety and love is suddenly growing within Kieren, blanketing all his fears. All the weird things that have been happening, all the horrible confusion, are not things he'll have to deal with alone. Simon kept his promise. He's back. He's safe. He's fine – and Kieren knows he'll be fine too.

“Kieren?” Simon tries again. His grasp on his backpack loosens, “Why are you out here?”

“I was...just waiting...”

“For what?”

“You,” Kieren's lips twitch into a half-smile, though his eyes are watering, “You left again and I didn't know what to do...all these thing kept happening and I was alone – I know I have my family, but they're not the same as us, and...and...” The smile can't seem to decide if it wants to stay or leave, but Kieren's eyes speak of his agony, “They're not _you_.”

For a moment Simon is without words. His backpack slowly slides from his shoulder until it drops to the floor. It was hard for him, too, wandering alone with no idea who might be out to get him – it stung too much like a distant memory. But Kieren... _Kieren, Kieren, Kieren,_ is all Simon can think right now.

“I'm sorry,” He whispers, and for the first time _he_ is the one to gather Kieren in his arms, and it is _he_ who presses their lips together.

It's a long kiss; it's slow at first, but then it's a bit messy and desperate. Simon places his large hands on Kieren's shoulders, calming the male who is shaking beneath his touch. He can feel choked sobs against his lips, and when he opens his eyes he sees tears rolling down Kieren's pale cheeks. But when they pull apart there's a beautiful smile on Kieren's lips – Simon knows Kieren is truly pleased. He lets his hands trail down Kieren's arms until he takes the younger male's hands in his own.

Simon tilts his head, noticing something. “Hey, you're wearing my jumper,”

“What?” Kieren raises an arm – along with Simon's – to examine his attire, looking thoroughly embarrassed as he does so, “Oh, um, yeah, I...”

The adoration in Simon's gaze is undeniable; he's still amazed at how blessed he is in this second life.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Once again, Kieren finds himself in the bungalow. He's pressed up into Simon's side on the sofa as they watch TV, quietly enjoying each other's presence. Simon's telling him about the back end of nowhere he ended up hiding in – Kieren's listening, somewhat, but he's mostly just relaxing at the sound of Simon's voice. He knows he's got a lot to tell Simon, just as Simon has a lot to tell him, but he's happy enough in this moment that his boyfriend is back beside him. He lets his head fall onto Simon's shoulder as he snuggles even closer, one baggy jumper rubbing against another.

“Kieren?”

“Mm?”

“...Nothing.”

Kieren glances up and sees an adoring smile upon Simon's lips.

Despite it all, a second life is truly a gift.

 

* * *

 


End file.
